Drabbledygook
by StarCrossdSparrow
Summary: Three seperate ficlets, two things in common: LoVe and food!
1. Chicken and Stars

TITLE: Drabbledygook: Chicken and Stars  
AUTHOR: StarCrossdSparrow  
PAIRING/CHARACHTERS: Veronica/Logan  
RATING: T  
PART: 1/3  
WORD COUNT: 575  
DISCLAIMER: RT is the master of all things "Veronica Mars." I'll put everyone back when I'm done, so please don't sue.  
SPOILERS: None for this one.  
SUMMARY: Three separate ficlets, two things in common: LoVe and food.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: These little scenes were just nagging at my brain and since I couldn't organize a nice fic to contain them, I made them into drabbledygook.

**XxXxXxX**

"Logan!" Veronica groaned for what must have been the four hundredth time, "Put. Me. Down!"

He grunted, juggling her slight weight between one arm and his hip as he tried in vain to insert her key into the apartment door's contrary lock. Finally, he set her on her feet with one long, concerned look.

Veronica rolled her eyes heavenward and silently counted to three before speaking. When she opened her mouth to explain that she wasn't going to run off, she sneezed. Logan lifted his eyebrow as if the ill-timed sneeze only served to substantiate his case that she was too ill to be left to her own devices. Even if said device was the lock on her apartment door.

"Fine," she grumbled as she leaned on the wall, wrapping her arms around herself, protecting her bare arms both from a sudden chill and his righteous indignation. Logan opened the door and ushered her inside.

When Veronica made for the couch, Logan snagged her by a belt loop and redirected her toward the rear of the apartment. "Pajamas, now," he ordered, "And if it has to come to me dressing you, I _will_ do it." He said it without his usual eyebrow wiggle, so Veronica knew his command brokered no argument. She went to her room to change.

"And stay in bed, Veronica," he called over the clatter of opening and closing cabinet doors, drawers, and finally the refrigerator. Veronica cringed as she imagined the carefully hidden clutter in the kitchen in shambles as Hurricane Logan blew through it. Her fears weren't allayed as her nurse stuck his head in the door, shaking a carafe of orange juice in her direction, "Does this expire?"

Veronica nodded, "Yeah, but my dad just bought that."

Logan smelled it and then considered. "Better not risk it." He disappeared again only to poke his head in a moment later, "Haven't you got anything other than canned soup?"

Veronica shook her head to indicate the negative and then moved to get out from under her blankets. "I'll help," she started.

Logan was at her side in an instant, pressing her back into her pillows and pulling the comforter to her chin. "Please, Veronica. Listen to me this once and stay put."

She stared up at him, trying desperately not to laugh at his too-serious face and the worry creasing his brow. "Why can't I have canned soup?"

"Because," he began, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, "It has too much salt. It'll make you sicker."

"That's-" Veronica cut herself off with a sneeze. "Ridiculous," she finished, lamely.

Logan tucked her blanket tighter. "I'm just going to run to the store and I'll-"

"Logan," Veronica said his name in a such a small voice, it gave him pause. "Stay."

"But... I... The soup-"

"Just stay here with me." The infamous tilt of her head, even at the awkward angle against her pillows, was in full effect. "You don't want me to catch a chill while your out shopping, do you?" She knew that the damsel-in-distress act worked a lot better on Logan than her usual spit and vinegar, so she laid it on extra thick.

Logan looked one last time in the direction of the kitchen before sitting down on the edge of her bed. He laid a cool hand across her forehead and asked, "Okay. Chicken noodle or chicken and stars?"


	2. The Church of Bananas and Pajamas

TITLE: Drabbledygook: The Church of Bananas and Pajamas  
AUTHOR: StarCrossdSparrow  
PAIRING/CHARACHTERS: Veronica/Logan  
RATING: T  
PART: 2/3  
WORD COUNT: 593  
DISCLAIMER: RT is the master of all things "Veronica Mars." I'll put everyone back when I'm done, so please don't sue. I also don't own "Paula's Home Cooking," "Easy Entertaining," "MythBusters," "MacGyver," Lucky Charms,or Easy-Off BAM!  
SPOILERS: None for this one.  
SUMMARY: Three separate ficlets, two things in common: LoVe and food.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: These little scenes were just nagging at my brain and since I couldn't organize a nice fic to contain them, I made them into drabbledygook.

**XxXxXxX**

It had become a Sunday morning ritual. If Veronica could swing a sleepover at the Grand on Saturday night, they'd roll out of bed and onto the couch at around ten thirty. If not, she'd stay in her pajamas and drive over in the morning and meet him there at the appointed time. Almost a month, and neither had missed a Sunday. It gave them plenty of nothing time before Veronica left for her late-afternoon shift at the library.

They watched one episode of "Paula's Home Cooking" and one of "Easy Entertaining with Michael Chiarello" (Logan's choice, though he'd never cooked anything fancier than a Pop Tart, he claimed he was "learning") and then "MythBusters" (Veronica's choice for which Logan referred to her as "mini-MacGyver").

Sometimes they neglected to watch the shows, choosing to cuddle, kiss, and caress instead. Sometimes they chatted about life's non-entities. Never anything life-altering really came up and they carefully skirted the Big Issues like family (deceased or abandoned) and friends (deceased or abandoned). Sometimes they just held hands and watched, making the occasional stray comment about Paula's penchant for butter, Michael's bad jokes, or Jamie Hyneman's mustache. It was beautiful. They never argued during these precious two hours; it was more sacred than church. It was better and more holy than any church that either had ever experienced.

During one particularly chilly Sunday (they felt the odd chill despite the hotel's temperature-controlled climate), they sprawled elegantly against one another, sharing the comforter and one another's body heat.

Veronica was eating a banana and Logan was sifting through handfuls of Lucky Charms, eating all the marshmallows and tossing back the plain bits. It wasn't long into Adam Savage's explanation of ballistics gel that Veronica felt Logan's eyes on her. She turned to meet his questioning gaze.

"Yes? Can I help you?" she asked before popping a bit of banana into her mouth.

Logan smiled a little sheepishly and looked down at the sand-colored cotton comforter on her lap before answering. "It's just... they way you eat that... it reminds me of something."

Veronica lifted a brow quizzically and Logan took it as a cue to continue. He took his time as though weighing the cost of confession against the obvious discomfort of telling Veronica to forget it. Confession won. "It's just... well, Lilly used to eat them that way."

Veronica opened her mouth to respond, but let it fall closed as she registered that he'd actually said "Lilly." And it hadn't sounded cold or angry. It just... sounded.

Logan shrugged and swung his gaze back to the program as it cut to a commercial about Easy-Off BAM!

Veronica's voice cut across the announcers, even though hers was much quieter and less bombastic. "She was the one who told me that I should never eat a banana without breaking it up for fear of looking like I was-" Logan watched as Veronica's cheeks turned slightly pink and she swallowed hard.

He laughed out loud at his girlfriend's reticence. Veronica didn't embarrass easily but some things always made her blush. "That certainly sounds like something she'd say."

The invisible, but palpable tension that had been created with the mention of Lilly's name fell away with Logan's laughter. Veronica laid the peel on the coffee table, not caring if the messy inside smeared the glass. She settled back and laid her head on Logan's shoulder as his arm came down across her shoulders.

They never got out of their pajamas that day.


	3. Boy Meets Grill

TITLE: Drabbledygook: Boy Meets Grill  
AUTHOR: StarCrossdSparrow  
PAIRING/CHARACHTERS: Veronica/Logan, Lamb, Sacks  
RATING: T  
PART: 3/3  
WORD COUNT: 1856 (okay, this one's a little long)  
DISCLAIMER: RT is the master of all things "Veronica Mars." I'll put everyone back when I'm done, so please don't sue. I also don't own "Transformers" or Saturn.  
SPOILERS: None for this one.  
SUMMARY: Three separate ficlets, two things in common: LoVe and food.  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: These little scenes were just nagging at my brain and since I couldn't organize a nice fic to contain them, I made them into drabbledygook.

**XxXxXxX**

Logan grinned at the skeptical blonde, self-satisfaction practically seeping from his pores.

"Why?" was all Veronica could muster as she stared at the gas grill that Logan had just dropped two grand on. It was a stainless steel monstrosity with an extra side burner, a smoker burner, and an infrared rotisserie. Not to mention the grill itself, housed beneath a ginormous gleaming hood that could probably be seen from... well, from Neptune.

"So we can cook," he answered, gleefully.

Veronica fully expected him to bounce on his toes and clap at any moment. "You have an entire hotel staff at the crook of your finger. Why do you need this... Transformer? Does it turn into a chef? Because I don't recall you ever going to any greater lengths in your kitchen than microwave popcorn."

Logan looked crestfallen at Veronica's appraisal of his purchase. "I just... I just thought it would be fun."

"Fun?" Veronica started with a sputter. _That thing looks about as fun as sledding from the peak of Everest on a trash can lid. _But, when she saw his face, she bit her tongue on the comment. He was worrying his lower lip with his teeth and avoiding both her gaze and the shiny object in front of them. Obvious signs of Echolls inner-turmoil. He was too easy. But, then, his abrupt displays of insecurity never failed to make her all marshmallow-y, so maybe it was her who was easy. "Yeah, I guess it could be fun," she ventured, warily.

He turned his eyes back to her, a bit of the twinkle that had vanished apparent again. Oh, she was such a sucker for twinkly Logan eyes. He grinned broadly at her smile. "I hoped you'd say that." He turned and walked past her into the suite.

While she inspected the beast, he gathered up the his other purchases and carried them back to the balcony. With a nearly giddy smile, he withdrew a large package wrapped in butcher paper from one bag. From another, he pulled a long handled fork and a fierce looking French knife encased in bubble wrap. From the last, he picked picked out a pepper mill and a container of coarse grey salt.

Veronica chewed her lip as she watched the culinary parade unfold. When Logan caught her expression, he stopped just short of unwrapping two magnificent steaks. "What's the matter?"

Veronica cut her eyes from his hands, to his face, and then to some point past his shoulder. "How did you get this thing up here? Surely the hotel isn't happy about their most infamous client, who, coincidentally, was the victim of arson, having access to so much," she gestured lamely toward the grill, "Fire."

Logan grinned, glad that her worries weren't of the serious bent. He closed the distance between them, gathered her hands into his, and pulled her down into a chair as he knelt before her, "I've lived at this hotel longer than half of the staff has worked here, Veronica. I have my connections."

"Ah, yes, an Echolls works in mysterious ways," she quipped, unable to keep on a concerned frown in the face of his full-on charm and the delightful way he was toying with the palms of her hands.

He grinned lazily, enjoying the effect he had on her when she wasn't completely on guard. "Let's just say that there are a few bellhops here who think that I had a new sofa delivered because of an incident involving a certain bobcat."

The red flag of embarrassment went up on Veronica's cheeks and she slapped his hand away, "You didn't."

He pretended to think. "Well, maybe I didn't. But, Misters Jefferson and Grant might have. Such loose tongues dead presidents have." He rose again and dropped a kiss onto her head before returning to his steaks.

Veronica laughed unevenly, disappointed that he hadn't stayed where he was. "I'd like to meet the guy that believes this is a sofa. There's a bridge in Brooklyn he might be interested in."

Logan chuckled as he pulled the meat from the butcher paper and laid the steaks on a dish. He salted and peppered each side, frowned speculatively and then looked at her. "Do you know how to do this?"

Veronica shook her head, an unspoken "I-told-you-so" on her lips. Logan saw it coming and held up a hand to stop her. Wordlessly, he moved to the grill and flipped a half-dozen switches and turned an equal number of knobs.

"Do _you_ know how to do _that_?" Veronica asked. Logan grunted some response that didn't sound at all like "Of course I do, sugar plum" so Veronica pressed on teasingly, "Are you lighting a grill or communicating with Saturn?"

"That ugly SUV-wannabe car of yours isn't good enough to breath the same exhaust as my grill, Mars," Logan tossed back, still depressing buttons with no results. Veronica huffed and stood. From her place behind him, she spotted the technological equivalent to the 'Power' and pressed it. The beast roared to life, flames roiling in its belly, ready to cook any pound of flesh thrown its way.

Veronica folded her arms across her chest, a Logan-grade smug smile on her lips, and waited for him to admit that she was smarter than him.

Of course, while true, she had as much chance as a snowball in Hell of him admitting it, so she took the quick kiss he gave and sat down as he laid the steaks on the grill. The grill was obviously hot because as soon as he laid them down, smoke began to billow from them as they sizzled.

Veronica stood again and turned one knob counterclockwise. The flames lowered a little and the steaks stopped smoking. Logan looked at her, this time, appreciatively. "See? Fun."

"See fun where? See fun run away in fear of fire? See fun on the couch, under a blanket? Because that's where I see it."

Logan grinned mischievously and laid his hands on her hips, "The couch, huh? I thought I saw fun there last night."

Veronica returned his lascivious grin and let her hands run a wide arc across his back. "Yeah, and then fun went into the bedroom."

"How can you make the word 'bedroom' sound so dirty?"

She laid her hands on his chest, a stood on tip toes to whisper in his ear, "Bedroom."

Logan lifted her quickly and she wrapped her legs around his waist. As he dropped her on the coverlet, a distinct and insistent blaring alarm interrupted. Both looked up as a red light lit above the door.

An electronic voice announced, "Please make your way to the stairwell. Do not panic. Please make your way to the stairwell. Do not panic." As the modulated female voice continued her warning, Logan and Veronica exchanged a look. They stood and made for the balcony. As they crossed the threshold into the living room, the sprinkler system went off and both were doused in freezing water.

The steaks were smoking wildly and as Logan made to locate the button Veronica had pressed earlier, Veronica stayed his arm. She reached past him with her shirt wrapped around her fingers and closed the lid on the flames. Moving quickly, she slogged back over the wet carpet, to the bedroom and seized the soaking comforter. She pulled it along behind her and tossed it over the grill as Logan just looked on.

That done, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the door to join the rest of the hotel guests as they made for the exits. Noting that she was without a shirt, he quickly pulled his sopping wet on off and wrapped it around her.

They said nothing as they descended the stairs, now awash in red flashing lights. Outside, fire trucks had already arrived and firemen had disabled the revolving door so they could get through more easily. A few deputies had already arrived with the sheriff on their heels. They'd cordoned off an area of the parking lot for an ambulance. Several guests had wandered in that direction, some coughing dramatically and some just shivering despite the heat outside.

Veronica and Logan stood, trying not to look toward Logan's floor. His suite was at the rear of the hotel, so they knew they wouldn't see the firemen discover the grill, but they couldn't resist glancing toward it. Veronica had just looked away from away when she saw Don Lamb striding toward her.

"Veronica Mars. Why am I not surprised?" he asked, hooking his thumbs through his belt loops and jutting his gun belt in her direction.

"Could it be that my boyfriend lives here, do you think, _Deputy_?"

Lamb rolled his eyes and leered down at her. "Well I can't say I'm unhappy. Whenever you're around, it always serves to limit my list of suspects."

Veronica scowled and crossed her arms over the wet tee shirt that, even though it was quite large, still left little to the imagination. "Of course. Because I usually do your job for you."

Lamb was about to reply when Deputy Sacks appeared at his elbow. Lamb cut across whatever the deputy was about to say. "Glad you're here. Take Mars to the station. And, you might as well take her slave boy, too."

Sacks wrinkled his brow, "Sir?"

"She's our most likely arsonist," Lamb explained slowly as if he were talking to a five-year-old.

"Arson?" Sacks shook his head and hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "I don't think so. The kitchen staff just told us that the fire originated in one of the ovens. They couldn't get to a fire extinguisher as it was missing. So unless Veronica has one hidden under there," he looked pointedly at her shirt and she folded her arms once more as he blushed, "I don't think she had anything to do with the fire."

Lamb stuttered before throwing his harshest gaze at Logan and Veronica who barely suppressed the urge to laugh out loud for relief. The sheriff stomped off in the direction of the hotel doors. Sacks shrugged comically at Veronica and followed.

As Veronica shivered in her wet clothes, Logan drew her close to his side and guided her toward his Range Rover. He opened the door for her and walked around to the driver's side.

Once seated he glanced over at her. "You're going to make me get rid of the grill, aren't you?"

Veronica nodded sharply and stared fixedly out the window.

Logan sighed as he started the engine. He pulled out of the rapidly emptying lot and headed for her apartment. They were quiet for much of the trip before Logan spoke, "You do realize that you literally threw a wet blanket on our fun." He sighed dramatically as the Sunset Cliffs came into view.

That did it for Veronica. She cracked up, doubling over in a fit of giggles. Logan looked over at her and started to laugh. He drove past her apartment and headed for the beach, instead.

**XxXxXxX**

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